


A Fine Night

by Wordy_little_witch_99



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, The Ritz, drunken shenanigans but not overtly stated, inspired by Tumblr oopsies, oc has a job thanks to crowley and aziraphale, the ritz has a betting pool on when that cute gay couple is gonna get married, these men are regulars okay there has to be SOMETHING, transmale oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordy_little_witch_99/pseuds/Wordy_little_witch_99
Summary: Mr Fell and Mr Crowley were by no means strangers at the Ritz. On the contrary, they were near infamous. Spending habits aside, there was something miraculous about them both.It only stands to reason that the Ritz herald some miracles back at them in it's own, special way.Or alternatively, there's a betting pool, an American waiter, and a wedding to plan.





	A Fine Night

He'd been working there for five years, and never once had he met someone quite like Mr Fell or Mr Crowley. The two always swung by around lunchtime for their dates - although on a few memorable occasions, they could pop in anywhere from late afternoon to late evening as well. 

Aaron was not always their server, but he enjoyed thinking he was a favorite of theirs - less for any reason of vanity and more because he'd landed this job due in large part to them. 

Americans were not always well received in other countries - stereotypes made for a rather dissuading influence when it came to work ethics. He'd begun as little more than a dishwasher, working tirelessly to make sure everything sparkled and shined to the best of standards. Years later found him as the "exotic" waiter with the "most precious accent I've ever heard!" by claim of many an older wife for many a regular. 

Something about today felt different. Maybe it was in the way Mr Fell reached out to Mr Crowley today, fingers never straying from the other for more than a moment. Maybe it was in how Mr Crowley, a stickler for personal space, seemed more overtly leaning into his partner's vicinity, like dust caught in the gravitational pull of a nebula, love like stars blossoming in the push and pull between the both of them. 

The very air itself, usually light and near whimsical, seemed to be dancing in the glimmering fractals cast about by the chandeliers and light fixtures scattered about.

It may have been, upon rumination, how, despite having known this couple what felt like forever, it was only today that Aaron could say he'd seen them touch at all. 

Anyone with eyes could see that Mr Fell and Mr Crowley were enamored with one another. 

Even Ever-Oblivious Elizabeth had picked up on it, and Aaron had a suspicion that the betting pool had been started by her. 

His money was on a winter wedding. 

But regardless of that - even if it really was kind of a big deal, a good few hundred pounds were in the pot, last he'd checked - the two seemed somehow lighter this evening.

He'd never seen Mr Fell laugh so openly before, cheeks flushed and eyes dancing, his ever expressive hands covering his mouth to add dignity to a painfully human and agonizingly adorable reaction to some snarky comment Crowley had made regarding some person named Gabriel. 

"C'mon, angel," the darkly dressed man implored, his own sharp cheeks tinted a light pink by the wine they were working together on. "Even Aaron would hate that bloke, and look at him-" Mr Crowley waved sloppily and lackadaisically in his general direction, with an air of purposeful dishevelment, "- Kid could hardly hurt a fly!"

Unable to resist a bit of playful teasing, he quipped a soft, "I don't know about that, sir. Madame Bethelda has made it clear she believes me to be a heartbreaker in my spare time~" 

Mr Fell, still snickering, nodded. "She's told me as such during our tea dates, dear boy! Something about all the young ladies and gentlemen getting starry eyed over a certain American's rugged poise?"

Aaron, with a faux innocent smile, tucked a curling errant lock behind his ear, fluttering his dark lashes sweetly. "Plausible Deniability," he replied smoothly, wordlessly accepting a high five from Mr Crowley. 

"Ah! That's my boy!!" The red haired man shifted to sprawl a touch more upright in his chair before twirling a finger and offering a cheesy grin at the young waiter. "Aaron, poppet, be a dear and bring us another bottle?"

"Of course, sir!" 

He spun on his heel and made his way back to the kitchen, passing Matilda on the way, his coworker busily refolding napkins for the upcoming bachelorette party for young Miss DeMaron at seven. 

"Mattie? Can you add fifty pounds to my claim?" 

She jolted up, bright green eyes twinkling. Aaron grinned, unabashed.

"It'll be by next December, most definitely."

(And, as it turned out, that spare bottle of wine they'd ordered had been just the right push for them to have a private moment late that very evening. 

As a result, Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer, Adam and his gaggle of friends - including the newest to their ranks, a young Warlock Dowling who was Weird but Cool in the way all children are and love to be - these many people and an assortment of others would, in the next few months, get a gilded card depicting two doves, white and black, announcing a particular wedding between two particular people.

And if the date ended up with a certain Aaron Jones getting a good deal to contribute to his top surgery funds, well. 

That's the interesting thing about about ineffability - the most interesting of things typical are.)


End file.
